Last week marked the 20th anniversary of my Pop Pop's death.

It was strange because when he died, I was 9, but yet I can still remember every detail of the day we found out he went home to God.My Pop Pop, John E. Zubek, was an amazing man to me.He was short in stature, but had a big heart.He was my buddy, and one who I wished I had more time with before I had to say my final farewell.Growing up, we were close. He would take me for walks down Abbott Street in Lansford, where I would stop numerous times to play with a number of neighboring dogs.He would also take me for our weekly Burger King breakfast run when I slept over.There were little quirks about him that I wish I didn't take for granted at the time, like making me watch Perry Mason or Lawrence Welk, but, as I mentioned before I was 9, and those things just weren't cool back then.Pop Pop also called me "Bub" and it drove me crazy. Now, I wish I could hear him say it one more time.He enjoyed playing bingo and going to Atlantic City, N.J., and dreamed of one day seeing the Las Vegas Strip. Unfortunately, that was just not the hand he was dealt and he died before making the journey to Sin City.Pop Pop was born on Christmas Day 1919 and raised in Lansford.He was an Army veteran of World War II, having seen action overseas, and was a machine operator at the former Bundy Tubing Company in Hometown.He married my Grammy, Helen, in February 1946 and had two sons, my Uncle John and my dad, Joe.After I was born, he became my Pop Pop and I became his only grandchild.During the short time we had together, we made many memories that I still cherish.One very memorable time was when he and my dad took me to Mauch Chunk Lake for a swim. I don't remember this, but my dad says that Pop Pop was not one for a "beach" atmosphere and came out of the changing room in his bright yellow swim trunks, complete with tube socks up to his knees and combat boots. I still chuckle as I try to envision him like this.But as the years went by, Pop Pop's health took a sharp, and very quick turn for the worse.It started with issues in breathing and he was soon diagnosed with lung cancer.The treatment was aggressive, and the already small man became either smaller in stature.He became weak and within four months, was hospitalized.On the night of Dec. 22, my mom came home from the hospital to get me. Pop Pop was not doing well.As I put on my Christmas sweatshirt, with the big red, glittery ribbons, I never realized that this visit would be the last.I walked into the hospital room and he smiled. We chatted and I told him I loved him as I "styled" what little hair he had left. Finally, he was tired and we said our goodbyes.That morning, the phone rang and Pop Pop was gone forever.It was the saddest Christmas that year his chair at the table left empty.Not a day goes by since then that I don't think about him and wonder what he would be like today if he were still here.My Pop Pop may be gone, but he has never been forgotten.